I found myself barking at the ancient cat this evening. Piper is the human equivalent of 92, and my mother frequently reminds me that the cat is older than she is. Piper gets a "cocktail" around 6 every evening after my mother pours her martini. Piper's drink is a concoction called Catsure--a product for senior cats. But tonight Piper didn't want her hit of whatever it is that's in that stuff. She wanted to meow inconsolably instead. So I barked.
This is how it's been in Margaritaville. Yesterday I went to the doctor for my annual physical, and if you've read this blog for awhile, you know that's a change of pace. A day without much going on for my mom so I carpéd the diem and went to the doctor myself. My blood pressure was somewhere in the region of the moon. The top number was 70 points higher than last year. True, I had been lost for a good fifteen minutes before I found the place. True, the person at the desk said go left when she meant right. True, my new doctor's office is inexplicably right under the sign that says, "Pediatrics" which immediately makes me think of pink eye, scabies, and un-diagnosable rashes. But still. The nurse retried after ten minutes, and it had dropped 20 points (still too high), and last night I could hear my heart beating in my ears all night long. Every time I rolled over, the poom-poom doubled its pace like rolling over was an Olympic event.
I have flown down the steps into the kitchen or into my mom's room a dozen times this week. Swearing, yelling, and 911-style screaming accompanied by banging of whatever is handy have signaled to me that:
her waffle is stuck in the toaster
her crocheting is not going well
she has spilled her V-8
There was so much yelling coming from her bedroom this morning that I told her she could carry on as she needed to, but that I needed to close her door because she was just too loud.
So, I am fucking insane. Or I may be dying. Or maybe I'm just getting a cold.
In any event, I must return to the nurse and get my blood pressure re-checked next week. Meanwhile, I'll continue to abuse cats and old ladies, and hope that my heart does not begin to ooze out of my ears.
photo credit: emily's gifts